again her eyes, which were fiery red.

"Madam," I said, "I am sincerely so sorry to have offended you, that I
venture to ask your pardon for an unpardonable piece of rudeness. I have
come to hold myself at your disposition; if you decline my escort, you
will not only be inflicting upon me an amply deserved mortification, but
you will leave me still more unhappy than I have been guilty, and that is
saying a great deal." Madame de Palme, taking into consideration the
emotion of my voice rather more than my diplomatic pathos, lifted her eyes
upon me again, opened her lips slightly, said nothing, and finally
advanced a somewhat tremulous hand, which I hastened to receive within my
own. She availed herself at once of this _point d'appui_ to get on her
feet, and bounded lightly to the floor. A few minutes later, we were both
on horseback and leaving the court-yard of the chateau.

We reached the extremity of the avenue without having exchanged a single
word. I felt deeply, as you may believe, how much this silence, on my part
at least, was awkward, stiff, and ridiculous; but, as it often happens in
circumstances which demand most imperatively the resources of eloquence, I
was stricken with an invincible sterility of mind. I tried in vain to find
some plausible subject of conversation, and the more annoyed I felt at
finding none, the less capable I became of doing so.

"Suppose we have a run?" said Madame de Palme suddenly.

"Let us have a run!" I said; and we started at a gallop, to my infinite
relief.

Nevertheless, it became absolutely necessary to check our speed at the
entrance of the tortuous path that leads down into the valley of the